


the alternative

by dadcastellanos



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5965210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dadcastellanos/pseuds/dadcastellanos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux makes a suggestion Ren can't refuse.</p><p>slight descriptions of violence in relation to end of canon wounds, suicidal thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the alternative

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glyphsbowtie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glyphsbowtie/gifts).



> hello, glyphsbowtie!
> 
> I kind of tied both your requests together & mixed them up a little. I hope that's okay with you & I hope you enjoy it!

Kylo Ren wakes oh so slowly to find himself laying in his own bed. He can barely move and everything is sluggish; his head is numb, his tongue is thick and his mouth and throat are dry, and for a few seconds that’s all that really matters to him. He wishes he had water. He wishes he were somewhere else. He wishes he were dead.

Everything comes back to him in snippets. He remembers Solo falling into the void, the warmth of his hand stinging Ren’s face, and the Wookie shooting him in the side, but he feels no pain where the wound should still be. He remembers the fight, being sliced with _that_ lightsaber, _the lightsaber_ , the look on the scavenger’s face when she stood above him triumphant. He remembers the snow and trees most of all, and the humiliating sensation of weakly crawling to a tree, of bitterly shedding what little moisture his body could spare to weep as his life bled out around him.

He should be dead. It’s the only thought that keeps floating back to him when everything else falls away. The way Solo’s hand felt, _I should be dead._ The way the lightsaber wouldn’t come to him the way it had before a thousand times, _I should be dead._ The whispers in the air between he and the scavenger, the hiss of _kill him, kill him now_ in a voice that was simultaneously new to him and something he knew all too well, _I should be dead._ He tries to swallow but his tongue won’t cooperate, and he ends up just making a noise somewhere between sad gagging and a soft moan.

Snoke wanted him dead. Why didn’t Snoke just let him die? Why is he still on this horrible ship, presumably being shipped straight to Snoke’s door?

 _Because the end of your life only matters if it ruins her, too,_ whispers a wicked little voice in the back of his head, and he knows it’s true. _You can still be used._

The Force comes back to him through the fog slowly; eventually, he begins to be aware of the room he’s in (it’s empty it’s cold it’s lifeless) and then the next room (it’s empty it’s cold _no, wait,_ there’s someone there, someone with a hum he recognizes, and they don’t feel happy but he can’t dwell on this right now) and the ship around him (it has a destination already and if he pries he won’t like the answer). With it comes the rest of sensation: his body is heavy, his side is in pain, his throat is so dry.

Ren lays there for a long moment wishing he could cry, but it won’t come. His body needs water too badly and refuses to cooperate, refuses to leak even a single tear, refuses to lend to his overwhelming self-hatred.

When it’s clear he’s not going to cry and there’s no chance he’ll sleep more, he decides to get up. It’s easier said than done, just like every fucking thing else in his life, and this bitter thought is enough to push him up into a sitting position, regardless of how little his side wound wants to bend. Ren hisses under his breath as the tightness of his delicately healing skin pinches into a sharp pain, and he wonders if it’s going to break open again. He can tell it’s bandaged under his clothing, but he doesn’t know if it’s fully healed.

 _One way to find out._ He tears his shirt off, yelping when his shoulder and side combine forces with excruciating pain. The presence in the other room stirs, but he ignores them, whoever they are ( _you know who they are, you know who he is_ ), swings his legs over the side of his bed and tears the bacta patch off in one violent swipe. The skin around his wound is an angry healing pink, the wound itself has been mostly closed but still sports an ugly scab where the deepest damage was done. He runs his fingers over it slowly, ignoring the presence as it rises from the table it sits at and slides into the door.

“Ren,” Hux says, his voice a mix of breathless annoyance and something deeper. “What in the _hell_ are you doing?”

“Looking,” Ren murmurs, his deep voice rough thanks to disuse and the copious amount of screaming he’d done during the fight. His throat throbs with pain. “I thought..”

“You tore your-“ and Hux growls an annoyed curse, making across the room in three long steps just to smack Ren’s hand away. “Stop that. It’s bad enough you’ve removed the bacta patch. Don’t _touch_ it.”

“It’s not going to get infected,” Ren starts, but Hux’s scowl shuts him up. He sways slightly where he’s sitting, regrets sitting up, regrets letting Hux save him. _I should be dead._ “Leave me,” he croaks, a sick resignation taking form in his stomach. He should be dead. Maybe he can still end it on his own terms.

“No,” Hux snaps, “I was given direct orders.”

“To be my personal nurse?”

“To-“ There’s a spike of shame and hatred that cuts through Hux’s thoughts directly into Ren’s, making Ren wince. “To bring you back to Snoke,” Hux replies bitterly, looking away. “Hold on. You need another-“

“He didn’t tell you to nurse me to health. He told you to bring me back,” Ren hisses, and he can tell from the way Hux stiffens that he’s right. His head is throbbing; he wants to dig into Hux’s thoughts, wants to figure out what’s happened and the extent of his wounds and whatever else he can, but he can hardly focus enough to lift his boots across the room, let alone read someone’s mind. The cacophony of emotions that suddenly disappears from his fractured senses makes it clear Hux doesn’t want him anywhere near it, anyways. “I’m alive. Leave me.”

“No,” Hux repeats. “As you are severely wounded and clearly unable to care for yourself, I have opted to ensure my safety and do it myself. I won’t risk something happening before we arrive at your destination. I’m not going to die because you-”

“My destination.” There’s a spark of fear in Ren’s stomach. He tries to ignore it. “What did he say exactly.”

“That it’s time to finish your training,” Hux snaps, “and if you have questions for him I suggest you ask _him,_ instead, because I haven’t got the time to be the messenger.”

“Then _leave_ ,” Ren bellows, standing very suddenly. There’s a flash of fear from Hux, who stares at him with the same unamused stare despite his immediate reaction, until Ren sways and almost falls back to the bed. Hux sneers. “Leave,” Ren repeats, and hisses out breath as his side begins to ache. “I don’t need you here- I need to prepare- you haven’t-“

“Shut up, Ren.” Hux pushes against his chest and Ren does fall back, groaning. “You are in no state to continue carrying on as you normally would. It will be easier for everyone if you keep your mouth shut and stay still.”

“Stay _still_ ,” and Ren lets out a violent laugh, punching the wound with a weak fist. “Stay still. Stay still and wait for slaughter, Hux? You’re delivering me to my end on a silver platter and you want me to stay still.”

Hux doesn’t reply, having left the room; Ren knows he can hear these words, can feel his discomfort from the other room.

“Finish my training. He wanted the scavenger to kill me. He wanted me to die, and yet he has you bring me home- I wonder what purpose that serves. He must be desperate to have at least one fucking pawn on the board. He must be so weak that even I am better than nothing.”

“Shut up, Ren,” Hux repeats, but now his voice is low and dangerous from where he stands in the doorway, an unopened bacta patch in his hands. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Perhaps that’s true, Ren considers. There’s a giddy over-energy in his stomach, something that wants to spit directly into Snoke’s face, to laugh and cut through his horrible old face. He should be dead and the scavenger should have killed him, and the idea of delivering himself for further torment at Snoke’s hands just for that purpose is hilarious. He starts laughing.

“I know exactly what I’m saying. You weren’t there. You didn’t hear his voice,” and the laughter gets louder and louder, more and more hysterical, his voice cracking with the effort. “Kill him, it said, kill him now, like I’m some hideous disease he cannot _wait_ to get rid of-“ He pushes himself up on the bed, leaning on his elbows to stare at Hux, the wound cracking slightly. “Fifteen years of my _life_ and he wants to replace me the _second_ he finds another Force user- maybe he thinks this one won’t be such a _failure_ -“

“Ren.” Hux’s voice sounds like a warning, even over the loud hysterics Ren’s put himself into. His fingers worry one side of the patch.

“Maybe _this_ time he won’t have to start from scratch-“

“Ren, _stop_.”

“-won’t have to hold her hand the entire way, won’t have to constantly remind her what she’s supposed to be-“

“Will you _stop it?_ ” Hux yells, and it’s enough to stop Ren, enough to stop the laughter and the shouting, enough that Ren just stares at him in shock, panting. Hux’s nostrils flare as he clearly swallows down enough air to keep calm, and then he stalks across the room, tearing the paper off of the bacta patch. “Thank you,” he murmurs, once he’s close enough to place the patch carefully over Ren’s wound again. A patch of this size must have been given to him in case of exactly this happening. Ren wonders how many of them he has, wonders just how much faith the doctor had in him. “You need water. Your throat sounds hideous.”

“You’re taking me to my death,” Ren whispers, laying back slowly on the bed. “You must be thrilled.”

Hux looks like Ren’s just slapped him, but it’s only visible for half a second; he turns quickly, stalking back out of the room to fetch a glass. When he returns, he holds the glass above Ren, waiting for the knight to sit up and take it. Ren feels the throbbing in his throat, decides he’d rather do anything but alleviate it, and turns away. His head is still pounding, his wound is now just as angry as the rest of him, and everything hurts. He should be dead, and he absolutely wishes he were. Behind him, Hux is furious.

“Stop this. Stop acting like a child.”

Ren says nothing.

“You chose this path. You knew the risks. You knew all along what you were getting yourself into.” Hux almost sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of this, his voice hardly loud enough to hear. “You don’t get to throw a tantrum when it all comes to fruition.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t be afraid to die?” Ren replies, his voice finally refusing to be above a whisper. “Are you saying I shouldn’t be afraid of whatever he strips from me next.”

“I thought that was what you’d always wanted. Snoke stripping pieces of you away until there was only whatever you thought you were meant to be. Ren, sit up and take this.”

“I did,” and now the tears can’t help but come, fat and hot down his cheeks. “I did, I thought- There was a method, there were lessons, and at the end of it all I find myself-“ He chokes back a sob. “I look into his eyes, I feel his hand on my face, and it comes to me then: this isn’t what I wanted, it isn’t what I needed, it hasn’t _helped_ -“

The bed shifts where Hux sits on it, listening.

“I shouldn’t have, I felt her through it and I knew, I knew she’d feel it too, and I thought this was meant to strengthen me but all I’ve done is ruin more of everything, I…”

“Ren,” Hux murmurs. “Please sit up and drink this.”

He does, shaking with sobs and the absolute exhaustion. Hux hands him the glass without looking at him, and he gulps down half of it in one go before the sobs catch up to him. “I can’t,” Ren wails, “I can’t do this, I can’t go back, not now…”

“I take it this means you think you’ve failed,” Hux replies, his voice emotionless. “You were responsible for Starkiller being destroyed, after all.”

“I murdered my own father, I looked into his eyes and felt his trust in me and I killed him anyways,” Ren sobs.

“You’re going to have to face the consequences.”

“He’s going to tear me apart.”

“Ren,” and Hux is leaning over him, some kind of desperation in his eyes, his voice. He reaches forward and grabs Ren’s hand tightly. “I can’t-.. I can’t let you do this.”

Ren stares at him, mouth gaping open. “… You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do. I can’t… sit by and watch you take this abuse any longer. You don’t belong here. Not like this.” His face hardens. “When we took you off the planet, you were muttering. You shouldn’t be alive, she’s strong with the Force, all sorts of nonsense. You were almost dead, Ren, covered in blood and unable to move, and he’d have me deposit you on his doorstep exactly that ruined if he had a choice. We- I don’t even treat my troopers that badly.”

“Training… takes more, with Snoke, he needs more,” Ren replies, his voice dazed. It’s the same refrain he’s whispered to himself for fifteen years, and even with the cold dread in the pit of his stomach at seeing Snoke again, he feels the need to defend his master.

“Seconds ago, you laugh at me for delivering you ‘to your death’, and now you defend him, the very crature you’re certain is going to ‘tear you apart’.” Hux shakes his head. “This … torture, this is exactly the sort of thing we do to people to get them to talk. He’s broken you into something entirely dependent on him, and I can’t stand by any longer.”

“Hux..” Ren doesn’t understand. Something’s changed, here, and he’s not sure he has the mental acuity to deal with it now.

“We’ve been fucking for five years and only recently in the last few months have you begun showing me more of yourself. You’ve become less of a toy and more of a person under my touch. I don’t even think you realize it.” Hux leans away again, shaking his head. “He’s wasting you. Your- talents, your intelligence. He’s bludgeoning you into something that no longer thinks for itself, and that is an absolute crime, considering what you can do.”

“I don’t understand,” Ren stutters, but is ignored.

“You, you could be the perfect weapon. Something sharp and glittering, a blade instead of a blunt stick. You’re skilled in combat, you can torture people without ever touching them, and when your mind is clear you’re a brilliant tactician,” Hux continues, his voice lower, this little speech seeming less for Ren and more for himself. “You need a steady hand, not a collar. He’s ruining you.” Hux turns, fixing Ren with an intense stare Ren’s only ever seen during speeches and in battles, or wrapped in sheets right before they both cum. “Stay with me,” he whispers. “Stay here, at my side. You- you’re the key to everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“ _What_.”

“My father gave me two things: an unshakable work ethic and the realization I was meant to rule. That was all. The First Order- this is a means to an end. This is a tool, what I use to take my rightful place on the throne of the galaxy,” Hux explains, a wicked little smile turning up the corners of his lips. His voice is breathless with excitement. “With you at my side, it’s more realistic; with you as my functioning, terrible weapon, you could have everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“And just what is it that you think I want,” Ren replies with something like amusement, though his head is starting to swim at the severity of Hux’s tone, the way he stares straight through Ren’s soul.

“I know you want to be like Darth Vader. You idolize him- the helmet, your little shrine. Am I wrong?” Ren can’t speak, so he shakes his head. “Vader’s failure. Do you know what it is?”

“Compassion,” Ren echoes from a conversation he’s had a thousand times.

“No,” Hux sneers, a little laugh behind the word. “No, he trusted in a master that was no longer his superior. He easily could have defeated Sidious; he knew the man’s fears and weaknesses, and yet he let himself be lead to ruin. If Vader had struck against Sidious, if Vader had stood for himself, he easily could have saved the Empire and ruled the galaxy.”

This is starting to make more sense than Ren would like to admit. It’s true. Without Sidious in the way, Vader likely could have turned Skywalker. They could have ruled together. If Sidious hadn’t distracted Skywalker from the truth of his father’s power, hadn’t given them a common enemy, perhaps…

“Snoke will never let me go,” Ren replies, looking away.

Hux pulls Ren’s chin forward, forcing Ren to face him, and shakes his head. “Oh, Ren. It’s simple,” he responds, confidently staring with half-lidded eyes into Ren’s face, “Snoke will be forced to when we kill him.”

The fear is replaced with something new: hope, perhaps, something fluttery and light. Ren’s breath catches in his chest. He’d never entertained the idea before. Snoke wants him dead, and dead he should be, but … if Snoke’s ultimate plan is to kill him, who’s to say he shouldn’t strike first? The hope spreads through Ren’s body, coursing warmth through his arms and legs, and he feels his face grow hot with it. Hux smiles triumphantly, and Ren starts to smile too, giddy with it.

“Snoke no longer deserves you,” Hux murmurs, and the words sink into Ren’s body. He’s worth.. more, perhaps. Something different at least. Something Hux thinks he can give, and something maybe Ren wants to take. “For the last five years you have been mine, you have belonged to me so completely, and I have no interest in letting that go now. I can make you something powerful. I can make you better than anything he’ll ever be able to offer you. Stay with me.” An afterthought: “Please.”

“Hux,” Ren whispers, and there’s just a moment where he’s standing on a precipice, staring over the side at the waves below. Snoke is powerful, and Ren is terrified of him. There’s so much Snoke can do that he cannot, so much that still could be taught, and so much he’s done now for Snoke seems like it was just pointless, wasted time, if he leaves his master now. But Hux, Hux… he doesn’t want to leave the general’s side. He can feel hope, something like light at the idea of it, at the idea of him serving the next Emperor of the galaxy with a proud smile… Perhaps Hux can be reasoned with, Hux can be convinced not to kill his mother, Hux can be given his fears and honest opinions… For the first time in years, Ren feels like he could be free.

Hux seems to sense this, the warring sides within Ren rearing their ugly heads again. He waits until Ren tries to pull away, silently threatening to side with fear and Snoke instead, and hisses. “Don’t you dare,” and Ren’s eyes snap to his, waiting and hopeful. “Is this what you want? Do you want to stay here?”

“Yes,” Ren whispers, and is pulled into a deep kiss. He can feel Hux’s smile through it, taste the man’s excitement. It mingles with his own hope and Ren is dizzy when Hux pulls away, smiling like a drunk man. “Do you honestly think we can kill Snoke?”

“Oh, yes,” Hux snorts. “Haven’t you ever wondered why he’s always just a hologram? Holograms don’t bleed. He’s old, powerless. Scared, perhaps. If you have enough time to heal, you can easily best him, I’m sure of it.”

“At the very least, I want to see his face right before I run him through,” Ren breathes, hardly daring to speak such sacrilege above a whisper.

“I’ll make sure you have it,” Hux replies, carding his fingers through Ren’s hair, a satisfied smirk on his face. “This, and everything you can ever want.”

“You’re saving my life, I hope you realize.”

Hux snorts. “I’m only furthering my career, you know,” he replies, voice smooth as silk. What little of his emotions Ren can feel is pleasure, a humming satisfaction with getting exactly what he wanted, and something deeper, something nameless that throbs in Ren’s chest in response. “Only that. It’s nothing personal.” Hux leans back again, that wicked smirk of his getting wider, and winks.


End file.
